SH3
Hash Trash

Vol. 2, No. 7

Hash No. 17

Hash Date:
01
July 2004

Scribes:Nothing’s Hung Like A Deere &
Second Hand Dyke

Well, here we are again - covering for the missing scribe.
We hardly know you anymore, Nuclear
Semen, but we hope you enjoyed your trip through Europe
while leaving us with all the work. Anyway, turning to the business at
hand,
the Socorro Hash House Harriers came like roaches at night for the
seventeenth
hash. SEVENTEEN hashes?! You know what that means….

ONE MORE TIL’ SHE’S LEGAL!!!

Father Snowball can’t wait…

Still whining from the previous hash’s beat-down
administered by Padre VLA and Just Jason,
hares and hounds alike
straggled in to our trusty beer pub for a nice patriotic event.
Naturally, a
dress code (we take any means necessary to hand out down downs) of red,
white,
and blue was enforced. Needless to say, Father
Snowball showed up in an inside-out “r” shirt, but it didn’t get by
our
watchful eyes. Shamed, he went home to change into appropriate attire
(and saw
the hares along the way!) while quite a crowd rolled in. We had the
usual
repeat offenders, Nothing’s Hung Like a
Deere, Wet and Hairy Banana Fairy
(sporting a smooth face, but we know where the hair is hidden), Secondhand Dyke, Virtual Clinton, Just Kim,
Just Steve, the pair of aforementioned previous hares, and even Seven Inches Shy (He’s come twice in a
row! What endurance…). We
also had a good showing of our new
recruits: Hell’s Fairy, Just Diana,
and Just Evelyn. Finally, for good measure, Secondhand
and Nothing made
Virgin Rheda come while Just Steve
(not for long!) made Virgin Anan
come.

And it must be noted that a person whose name sounds like “On On”
can’t be all
that bad. However, it became very clear that Just Steve didn’t quite
give Anan
all the details. He was under the impression that we were following a
trail of
flowers… Now now, do you think this is a hippy hash? Half of us blow
things up
for a living!!

Virtual’s promise to do
the Bunny Hop (I'm making this up, shhh)

So count it: FIFTEEN!
Pretty soon we can become a political force here in Socorro! I can see
it now…
Dedicated Hash lanes on the roads, actual fines for Use of Wanker
Names, but I
digress once again. The important thing was that we had three people to
name,
and Virtual Clinton repeatedly bemoaned the idea of being stuck in the
brew pub
until midnight. That’s not my
idea of
a problem, Virtual. Upon realizing the need to name Justs Jason, Kim,
and
Steve, the pack immediately entered deep thinking, at least until the
first
pitcher showed up.

After loosening up the beer drinking muscles, and giving the
hares a fifteen minute start (which apparently wouldn’t be enough,
based on
their pleading and comments on expected Pack checks), the pack gathered
themselves and walked outside for the important chalk-talk’s words of
wisdom
(mostly directed at the virgins but a few of us need, ahem, reminders).
Running
20 minutes behind at this point, the pack quickly tried to find the
first beer
near. Within a minute the pack reached the Mission, where some near the
back
noted the beer-drinking-delaying pack check. After calling (almost) all
of the
pack back towards the photo opportunity, we proceeded to make a ruckus
and have
our photo taken. All of which apparently displeased a woman peering out
of the
church. I guess it is official – All of us, Fairies included, are going
to
Hell.

Pissing off God and church
ladies everywhere…

Post-picture, the pack caught up with Just Steve and Anan,
who were such FRB’ers they didn’t even hear the call to return to the
mission,
before continuing on. It was an interesting cross of confusion and
worry on
their mugs until they saw us approach.

Soon it became very apparent that the hares were very
interested in leaving a near-continuous trail of flour. Excessive
blobbing, perhaps?
It should have been a down down for waste of such a precious commodity.
Continuing northward the hounds followed the trail into the maze of
buildings
known as ZimmerlyElementary
School. Here, the vast majority took the
leg that
required a nice hop up and over a fence before running through the
playground
and up over ANOTHER fence (apparently the hares like to make the hounds
work).
At this point the pack was mostly back together and did a little ditch
running
along Middle road until reaching another check at College avenue, where
we
eventually found that a true trail continued straight up College.

See, I
told you he would do the Bunny Hop!!

Running through the
“streets” of Socorro

When we finally reached campus (What, another institute of
learning to sully with our ways?? Note
from hare: yes, there was a theme that night!) it became apparent
that we
would fare poorly in a West Virginian country hash. Now I don’t mean
dodging
banjo-wielding Wankers (that’s a double entendre if I have ever seen
one) but finding
flour in tall grass. Stumbling like the drunken fools we are (and we
hadn’t
even sniffed out a BN yet!) we finally found the trail and continued
westward
until entering Workman.

What hashing can do to
your brain!

Ahh, nothing like following a trail of papers proclaiming,
“ON ON.” I can only imagine what negative thoughts people thought as
they
walked over them the other direction. Up and up we went until we
reached the
third floor, all the while hoping for an illicit Beer Near in someone’s
office
space. Alas, we then proceeded back down the stairs or via the elevator
(now is
that technology on trail??) to reach the daylight. At this point some
of the
DFL’ers took the opportunity to completely avoid the rigors of Workman
and
proceed down the trail. Very shortly after the Workman, the pack got
quite a
chuckle out of the sight of local statues proclaiming the correct
direction of
the hash. Naturally, photographic proof was necessary to document the
insightful method.

You call this art?!

The trail finally spit us out from campus right in front of
the VLA’s buildings, home to the worklives of Nothing…, Padre VLA, and
Just
Jason. Fortunately, before getting any closer, we all veered towards
the MaceyCenter.
If only we had known that
the hares were nearby, crawling along the golf course ground to avoid
our
sight, we might have had a little flour-dumping fun. Alas, we kept
going until
reaching the fountain. Working up quite a thirst, the Pack Check in
front of
the fountain proved too tempting to pass up for some our hot hounds and
also
for one who apparently needs a job. As always, the Hash Flash strikes
again:

No way! There’s at least 3
pennies in here!

About 23 cents in hand, a few pair of soggy shoes later, and
after the cell-phone-using-technology-on-trail-toting Hell’s Fairy
showed up,
we were off through the child’s park (another one!) and into the
wilderness
called TurtleBay.
Steering clear of the slightly flowing water, but not the angry ducks,
the pack
found themselves running back along a fairway towards the NRAO building
yet
again. Due to our close proximity, the flour blobs were a little more
erratic
as the hares fled from the pack. Despite the brief loss of the trail,
the pack
emerged through the parking lot and ran to Lopezville road and the down
Bullock, towards the city pool. At the pool intersection we found
another
check, this one featuring a YBF to the left while the true path was
straight
ahead. Desperately needing a beer, the pack’s hopes began to pick up as
we
neared a potential beer near spot at Brian and Tiffany Briggs home on
Sunset. “Shaw
‘Nuff”, the BN was found and we filed in for tasty beverages.

So let’s review while we recall fond memories of sweaty beer
drinking… At this point we had already accomplished quite a few things
in the
hash:

Desecrated a Holy place with flour and pink chalk -

Pissed off a church lady and probably God –

Ran through an elementary school and playground –

Ran through Tech and disrupted the learning process (we
hope) -

Critiqued local sculptures in our own unique way –

Scared ducks so bad they actually dared enter the water at
Turtle Bay –

Ran through a golf course –

All Right!!

All in all, a pretty good day at the office, but we weren’t
satisfied yet. At the beer near we decided to sing a few crude songs
(Virgin Rheda
was most definitely the soprano) not only to ourselves but also the
young
neighbor girl in a nearby backyard. Oh well, nothing like providing
good fodder
for her “What I Did This Summer” essay.

After thanking the hosts for their hospitality, we bolted
out after giving the hares another 15 minute lead (we needed the time
to
drink). Running through more beautiful Socorro neighborhoods we wound
up at the
El Camino Real and College intersection again. Careful investigation
led us in
the right direction; down College towards California street.
After this long haul and a check by the Tastee Freeze (this author was
the
lucky one who followed the false trail behind Smith’s and next to their
odiferous dumpsters). Despite the tempting desserts we persevered
through the
check and found the correct path along California Street.

At this point the spread between the DFL’s and FRB’s was
fairly large, so no confusion was shown by passing cars (not even a
honk this
time, guys? Where’s the love?) since it takes clumps of runners or red
dresses
to cause such bewilderment. Because the correct path “down down”
California
could clearly be seen, some missed the split through the car wash,
which was a
dirty shame. Upon reaching the Otero intersection the trail turned east
and after
a long wait at the stoplight we marched on. After a check and then the
nose-numbing blast from the local water treatment plant (thanks hares!)
we
found ourselves at a great Pack Check. Because of the hares requirement
for
photographic proof, we enjoyed the rest as I, Nothing Takes Pictures
Like a
Deere, set up the hash flash for a truly group shot. Please do take
notice of
the No trespassing sign, practically a prerequisite for a good trail!
And Just
Diane, while shimmying did you get any splinters where no splinters
should
be??? It looked painful…

Apparently, we all just
couldn’t keep off…

After losing a petered-out Virgin Rheda (you mean you prefer
beer to running through mosquitoes and gnats?), we mounted up again and
ran
further east along Otero until reaching a hash-first (at least in my
short
memory); a BOOB CHECK! Sorely missing Virgin Rheda at this point, Just
Diana
and Just Kim took up the slack of determining the correct direction. It
must be
noted, though, that Seven Inches Shy joined in on the search, a true
crime on
trail. Shortly after the ladies and questionable man set out, we heard
an ON ON
cry from Just Diana so we followed her lead. Not much running later, we
found
the next Beer Near, and a pair of hares jumping on a trampoline. It was
such a fascinating
sight that Father Snowball had to join in.

In what must be described as a strange backyard (where else
do you find a trampoline, gazebo, bizarre dollhouse, and a defunct
water
slide/fountain?) we relished in more beer and a tasty variety of
treats. After
drinking and digesting for a while, we declared an ON IN and saddled
just about
everyone up for the journey back to the brew pub.

Do you see the waterfall
thing back there!?

Seven Inches Shy likes to
play with his “doll”

Once at the pub, hungry hounds and exhausted hare (probably
from the trampoline jumping…note
the use of the singular in this case. Just Evelyn did not come back to
the pub
and left SecondHand at the mercy of the pack) ordered food and
filled their
mugs. Virtual Clinton and Seven Inches Shy commenced religion by asking
for
crimes on trail. In addition to Father Snowball drinking a whole lot
(what else
is new?), the following were accused:

*Note (I suppose Nothing… is guilty of the above charge
anytime he whips out his digital camera)

Virgins Rheda and Anan (An! An!) and those who made them
come, Nothing…, SecondHand, and Just Steve shared a down-down.

The hounds were asked to comment on the trail, and a confused
mixture of response ensued, including the following:

“It was too long” (wah, wah, wah) “It was too short” (more
wah wah)

“ Not enough shiggy” “Too much shaggy”

Note from hare: there
is no pleasing you people!

And SecondHand was made to drink her share (and her missing
co-hare’s share) of down-downs. (You just
wait Just Evelyn…you’ll pay.)

The pack then moved on to the naming of the three Justs,
with Just Jason going first. After delivering a compelling five minute
monologue which included details that proved too good to pass up (Rapid
City native, Canadian girlfriend who is really
German,
data analyst as a career…) the pack decided that Anal Cyst must be part
of the
moniker. It was a close vote, but Rapid Shitty Anal Cyst won out over
the
simpler Anal Cyst and the usual incomprehensible crude suggestions from
Padre
VLA.

He really likes his new
name…

Just Steve (who earlier in the evening tried to avoid being
named by claiming to be on only his fourth hash—for shame) was next.
The pack
latched on to one key detail Just Steve shared: his penchant for
speaking in a
Scottish accent. Forgive my clouded (by then, down-down induced memory)
but we
somehow settled on Mac Haggisholeor is
it Mac Hagasshole? Should we vote next time? Should we figure out what
Mac
prefers and declare it the opposite?

Don’t make him rip you a
new Mac Haggasshole!

Finally, on to Just Kim. Seven Inches Shy offered his two
cents, declaring “this woman just can’t say no,” Father Snowball
repeatedly
offered up “Hot for Teacher” (oh, really? Down-down Father) as a name
and Wet
and Hairy suggested “Pet the Teacher.” The pack played some more with
the
teacher theme and just couldn’t get off of “Mizz Schaeffer, Can I go to
the
bathroom?” While this name is hard to shorten, (I suppose “Miz” might
work),
the pack liked the fact that this name lends itself to a call and
answer (The
pack must respond to her stated name by correcting it with a “MAY I go to the bathroom”).

She really has to pee…

Next Hash: August 5th!!!!

Hares: Father Snowball (note
to Father Snowball, don’t forget your key this time! Especially if the
BN is at
your house) and Mac Hagasshole